The 86th Hunger Games: The Capitol's Wrath
by vandenburgs
Summary: The Rebellion never happened and Katniss and Peeta slowly became the Capitol's newest and brightest puppets, managing to build a life of their own over the course of the years. However, there might still be a chance to end the tyranny of the Games — will this year's tributes manage to ignite the spark of a new rebellion? *SYOT OPEN!*
1. Introduction

I feel Peeta's hand on top of my thigh, and for a second the thoughts and fears that I feel perpetually drowned in seem to disappear. Rue, Cato and Clove are still with me every day, but he somehow makes it all a little less painful.

It still hurts to think that we have been training children and sending them to their deaths for the past eleven years, though.

"I finally managed to put the girls to sleep." He muses, his lips pressing softly against my temple once he gets in bed and tucks himself in right next to me. "They're so upset about us leaving."

"I know," I breathe, closing my eyes for a second. Having Florence and Dorcas was both the easiest and the hardest thing I've done in my life — I know they're loved, and that Peeta will always be there to hold them when I feel incapable of it, but it still hurts too much to think that they'll be eligible for the Games one day. They're only three, and yet I almost feel as though they've begun to slip away from me — almost like President Snow has already claimed them as his own. "But my mother and Prim will take care of them."

"I know," he echoes. His arms are wrapped around my waist now, and it almost makes me feel better about the idea of putting on a bright smile for the Capitol tomorrow. "We'd better get some rest."

I nod, only half-heartedly. I can't help but wonder what the two unlucky kids who will get reaped tomorrow are doing right now — they're probably fast asleep, or struggling to conceal their anxiousness in front of their siblings and parents. Perhaps they're spending the night with their significant other, just in case it's the last one. I suppose the two of them will be undernourished, unprepared kids from the slums, who will probably die within the first three days of the Games like the previous years. Our best shot at winning was a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy three years ago, who came in fifth in the end — but coming in fifth, fourth, third or even second in the Hunger Games isn't enough, and I still avoid his mother's eyes when I go down to the market with Florence and Dorcas every other weekend. I know she doesn't blame me or Peeta or even the Capitol for her son's death, but I also know I failed them by not standing up to President Snow like everyone expected me to do after our Games. I'm not scared for myself, but I've always been scared for Peeta, for Prim, for my mother, for Gale; now there's Florence and Dorcas, too, and that only makes everything a whole lot more complicated than it already was. I cannot put them in danger, and the system will remain rotten as long as I can protect them from the Capitol's claws.

I bury my face in the crook of Peeta's neck and close my eyes. I hate looking vulnerable in front of pretty much everyone but him, and I know he understands better than anyone else what I'm going through. We've built a life together over the past twelve years, after all — and, as fragile as it may be, I have loved every moment of it. In fact, I feel as though Peeta's steady arms and and patient smiles are what has kept me going all these years.

"Let's get some rest," he repeats, his nose resting on top of my head. "I have a feeling that this year is going to be different."

I nod quietly, never letting go of his hand. I have no idea what will happen tomorrow, but the sole idea of having him by my side makes it all a little less awful.

•••

_hey ho! so i've literally no idea if syots are still a thing, but if they are — here's a new one from yours truly! the form is on my profile page and it'd be lovely if you could all just dm it to me (update: i'll post it here too just in case). i'll get back to you asap with a confirmation & perhaps a few more questions because that's just how i roll, but oh well. please be original, diverse, and also a bit realistic! i'll post the final tribute list as soon as i've got them all._

_see you all soon! :)_

_-vandenburgs_

**THE 86th HUNGER GAMES SUBMISSION FORM**

**Name:**

**Nickname(s):**

**Birthday:**

**Age:**

**District:**

**Sexual Orientation:**

**ABOUT**

**Appearance:**

**Everyday clothing:**

**Personality:**

**Traits (no more than five):**

**Flaws (no less than five):**

**Physical strengths:**

**Mental strengths:**

**Physical weaknesses:**

**Mental weaknesses:**

**History:**

**Family:**

**Friends:**

**GAMES & TRAINING**

**Will they be liked by other tributes?:**

**Strategy while staying at the Training Center:**

**Strategy for the Gamemakers session (what score would they get?):**

**Strategy for Caesar's interview:**

**Strategy throughout the Games:**

**How did their Reaping go? Did they volunteer?:**

**Open to alliances? If so, what sort of group/ally would they look for?:**

**Open to romance? If so, how would it go for them?:**

**Bloodbath? (will have to pick them out randomly if there isn't enough of them):**

**Plot ideas?:**


	2. Tribute List

**District 1**

Male: Jacques Devereaux (18) ~ Andii99

Female: Luxe Augustine (18) ~ Andii99

**District 2**

Male: Atticus Waterhouse (18) ~ petrificustotaloos

Female: Andromeda Pierce (17) ~ Vernyx

**District 3**

Male: William "Billy" Grian (18) ~ RiversOfVenice

Female: Saoirse Gealach (17) ~ RiversOfVenice

**District 4**

Male: Prometeo Cordiani (18) ~ santiagoponcini20

Female: Nika Bardsley (18) ~ santiagoponcini20

**District 5**

Male: Quincy Cosmo (13) ~ Paradigm of Writing

Female: Marlee Sekeb (18) ~ Primione394

**District 6**

Male: Chris Hernandez (16) ~ CrossKnight105

Female:

**District 7**

Male: Xavier Helmsley (16) ~ Andii99

Female:

**District 8**

Male: Gerard Hanscom (17) ~ cluelessclown

Female: Anne Bingham (16) ~ cluelessclown

**District 9**

Male: Otis Warburg (13) ~ mine

Female:

**District 10**

Male:

Female:

**District 11**

Male:

Female: Caidee Feater (17) ~ Primione394

**District 12**

Male: _Reserved ~ Author-Hime_

Female: Frances Hawthorne (17) ~ cluelessclown

_So that's it so far! I'll probably just update this list without posting a new chapter from now on. My plan is to write four Reapings, four train rides, four Training sessions, four interviews, four POVs of the night before the Games, and four POVs on the morning of, because I don't want to waste too much time on writing every single reaping and so on so that we can get on with the story as fast as possible. I will try and make those chapters lengthy, though — I'll be accepting characters until I reach the last interview, and if I don't have all twenty-four tributes by then I guess I'll just fill in with random Bloodbath tributes before delving into the Games. Anyway! I'm pretty excited about this, so it'd be lovely if you all kept submitting characters for it! :D_

_-vandenburgs._


	3. Reaping I: Otis Warburg (District 9)

**Reaping I**

**Otis Warburg, District 9**

_i'm waking up, i feel it in my bones  
__enough to make my systems blow  
welcome to the new age, to the new age_

(radioactive — imagine dragons)

•••

Otis has only been eligible for the Reaping once before, but he already knows it's by far the worst day of the year — especially when there's no one to hold his hand through it.

He's grown accustomed to being on his own, but the idea of being alone while it happens still haunts him. His only friend, a fellow orphan named Bobbi Grisham, won't be by his side when it happens because the Peacemakers segregate the eligible tributes by gender before entering the town square — which means he'll be surrounded by hoards of boys that he's never spoken to before while struggling to keep his breathing even. He gulps quietly as he fixes his tie, and stares at his reflection in the mirror before letting out a quiet sigh.

He's only thirteen, but he has already been through _so much_.

His fists tighten ever so lightly and his mind goes back to his parents. His memories of them are vague and even blurry at times, but he needs to hold on to them in times like these. He tries to recall the way his mother sang to him before tucking him in, and the way she would dance around the kitchen with his father when they thought he was fast asleep. They had always been rather poor, but Otis remembers his childhood as an extremely happy one — at least until the typhus epidemic struck District Nine when he was just seven years old and took them both away from him.

"Ot, c'mon. We're already running late."

He turns around and finds Bobbi smiling kindly at him. Unlike Otis, Bobbi has never known life outside the orphanage — her single mother died at childbirth, and she has been raised by the teachers and nuns who run the orphanage. She has a sturdy personality, which is Otis's favorite thing about her — she's determined, but also extremely kind, and she knows how to fend for herself even in the darkest circumstances. Otis has never told her, but he thinks she would have a fair shot at winning the Games.

"Yeah, I'm coming," he muses. He takes one last look at himself in the mirror and then offers her a half-smile, because today isn't a day for wholehearted grins. "Let's go."

The other kids have already left, so they both make their way to the town square in a comfortable silence. Bobbi occasionally points one or two things out as they walk down the street — she tells him about the neighbor's dog having had puppies the other day, and about this sixteen-year-old boy from the orphanage who keeps bugging her all the time. He listens attentively, but hardly replies to her incessant monologue — Otis knows he's her go-to person to vent all her worries and ideas out, and he _is_ a rather good listener after all. By the time they get to the town square, however, Bobbi has gone silent, and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze before casting a glance towards the Peacekeepers who will inevitably send her to the girls' section.

"I'll see you later, all right?" She says, an encouraging smile on her face. "Don't panic — it's going to be completely fine, Ot. Your name has only been put in twice."

"I know," he nods, and knows his friend is right. But there's still a chance of either of them getting reaped, so he doesn't let go of her hand just yet and whispers, "Will you come say goodbye if I get reaped, Bobbi?"

Bobbi grimaces, but nods quietly. "Sure thing, Ot." And she pulls him in for a hug before adding, "You'll come too if I'm the one who gets reaped, right?"

"Of course," he whispers against her shoulder, and shuts his eyes firmly as he hugs her close. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Bobbi."

She nods, as though agreeing with his statement, then presses a soft kiss to his forehead before letting go of him.

"C'mon, let's go," she whispers. Otis notices that she's a little teary-eyed — which isn't like Bobbi at all. "I'll buy you an ice cream later, all right?"

Otis does a half-smile and nods. "Not if I buy you one first!"

Bobbi snorts and waves him goodbye before the Peacekeepers usher her to the girls' side. He raises his arms in protest when they try to do the same with him, grimacing ever so lightly at the aggressive look on their faces. He follows the other boys into his group, and crosses his arms as he looks up to the central stage. Their Capitol escort is a snobbish young man by the name of Ovidius Maysendorf, and Otis has always hated him with passion. His accent is nothing like the people of District Nine's, and he always wears the fanciest clothes when he knows full well that most people in his assigned District can't even afford four meals a day. He clenches his fists when Ovidius grins at the camera and, sporting a freshly tanned look that he must have acquired while on holiday in the fancier side of District Four, he flashes a smile towards the crowd standing in front of him.

"Good morning, District Nine!" He says in a loud, enthusiastic voice. "Welcome to the eighty-sixth District Nine Reaping. I bet you're all very excited about it." The boy standing beside Otis snorts, and he can't help but awkwardly smile in agreement. "Thank you to our mentors for being here, and thank _you_ all for taking the time to come over."

"S'not like it's optional, dude." The boy snorts again, and Otis has to stifle a laugh. He's taller and possibly older than him, and they most likely haven't even met before, but he has already decided that he likes him. There's an entire science to bonding with other fellow candidates through Reaping Day, Otis thinks.

"Let's begin with the boys, shall we?" Ovidius lets out what attempts to be a charismatic laugh, but the crowd in front of him seems to either ignore or downright disregard his gesture, so he simply coughs and motions towards the bowl. "All right, let's do this . . . "

Otis presses his eyes closed, and for a second he manages to block out every single noise, colour, taste, and smell that surrounds him. He's alone in his head, and he allows himself to breathe for a second before telling himself it's going to be all right. He's not getting reaped, because there's plenty of eighteen-year-olds who have put their names in fifty or sixty times so as to feed their families for an entire year after the Reaping. His name has only been submitted twice, and he will probably just go eat an ice cream with Bobbi afterwards and laugh his anxieties off like he did the previous year. He isn't _that_ unlucky, after all.

"Otis Warburg!"

. . . Except maybe he is, after all.

* * *

_so! that's the first reaping right there. i wanted to start off with wee otis because well, he's a character i came up with the other day and wanted to try and write him for a bit before diving into the submitted tributes. please let me know what you think via review! and remember, there's still **plenty of slots** left — so if you're reading this and haven't submitted a tribute yet, please shoot me a PM and make me uber happy!_

_also — make sure to check **Andii99's SYOT**! it's absolutely amazing and it'd be lovely if you could submit a tribute or two there as well. :)_

_coming next: luxe's reaping._


	4. Reaping II: Luxe Augustine (District 1)

**Reaping II**

**Luxe Augustine, District I**

_i'm miss sugar pink; liquor, liquor lips_  
_hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss_  
_i'm miss sugar pink; liquor, liquor lips_  
_i'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch_

(bubblegum bitch — marina & the diamonds)

•••

Luxe hates not having been born in the Capitol.

Not because she doesn't enjoy the same luxuries as every other Capitolite, or because she doesn't want to go through the Games and the Reapings. It's simply because there is something tremendously _vulgar_ about being a District girl, like all those scrawny, filthy kids from the peripheral districts who get tossed into the Arena with the Careers. If she were a Capitol girl everything would have been sorted out for her by now — her sisters wouldn't be an obstacle and she would never feel as worthless as she does whenever she doesn't come in first during one of her Academy examinations (which, on the other hand, only seldom happens). She could be a politician like her big sister Nathalia, a socialite like her mother, a loving wife like her middle sister Ariana; she could have had it all, and yet she doesn't. She _almost_ has it all, and the idea of not being able to reach her fullest potential has never sat well with her. That is why she decided to become a Career, and that is why she can barely hold back a grin when she sees her reflection in the mirror as she tries her new Reaping dress on.

"My, Luxe," her mother breathes, a proud smile on her face. "You look absolutely dashing."

The girl nods. Her mother knows today is perhaps the most special day of Luxe's life — a day in which she will finally outshine her older sisters. Diantha knows that her youngest has it in her to be great, and she sometimes wishes she wasn't that hard on herself; but, on the other hand, she also happens to know that Luxe's self-depreciation is what has kept her going over the course of the years. Nathalia has the brains, Ariana has the beauty — but Luxe has both, which makes her the most valuable asset to the team that is the Augustine family.

"Thanks, mother." Luxe smiles confidently, but her mother knows she's everything but.

The girl's eyebrows quiver ever so lightly, and Diantha guesses it's time to give her youngest daughter a brief hug.

"Do you think I'm going to make it back, Mum?" Her tone has become feebler now, almost childish. Diantha's mind goes back to when she was a little girl, always curious and energetic but also extremely coquettish.

"Of course you will, honey," Diantha replies as she strokes her daughter's dark brown hair. "You're top of your class, that's why they picked you. Your teachers _hate_ taking risks — but do you know what they hate even more than that?" Luxe shakes her head quietly. "Losing to District Two."

Luxe snorts against her shoulder, and Diantha smiles. She has never liked the idea of picking favourites among her daughters, but the truth is that she has always had a very soft spot for Luxe. She looks just like her when she was her age, and she also has the brains to make it through the Games on her own; she is fierce and relentless, and she has it in her to become someone great. Diantha would bet all of her family's inheritance on her if she could.

"I think your dad's waiting for us outside," she muses finally, not quite letting go of her daughter just yet. "Nathalia and Ariana will meet us at the town square, I think."

"All right." Luxe looks a lot more sobered up when she pulls away, and she flashes a glance back at the mirror to check that her makeup is still very much on point before offering her mother a small smile. "Let's go then."

Diantha nods and takes her daughter's hand before following her outside.

•••

The District One town square has been decorated to honour their escort's presence, and everyone is just standing around chatting casually as though they had randomly decided to meet their friends there instead of the shopping mall or one of the enormous parks scattered around District One. Luxe has never really seen how Reapings work in the more peripheral Districts, but she certainly knows that the District One kids who aren't interested in volunteering for the Games do not lose a wink of sleep thinking about the possibility of getting reaped and sent to the Games. There's always going to be a Career to volunteer for them, after all; besides, hardly anyone requests tesserae in their District, since the poorest families are even wealthier than the average middle class in a humbler District.

"We're going to go sit with your sisters now," Luxe's father says, before giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She nods quietly. A few of the kids have already wheeled around to look at her — she's the elected female Career, after all, and everyone knew she would be the one allowed to volunteer well before the Games, since they had taken their final examinations earlier that year.

"It's fine, Dad." She offers him her best smile and kisses his cheek. "I'll go look for my friends, all right?"

"All right, honey." Her mother caresses her hair one last time and presses a kiss to her temple. "We're so proud of you, baby."

Luxe's cheeks flush ever so lightly — because her parents' approval is all she needs to make it through the Reaping. She gives her hand one last squeeze before waving them goodbye and turning around to go find her best friend Sheen, who is standing right in front of the stage and observing everything with a quiet fascination. Sheen is a year younger than her and trained really hard to become this year's female Career, but she came in second after Luxe — which meant that she would probably be able to volunteer the following year. Sheen never resented her friend because of it, though — she admires Luxe's physical and mental strength, and she can't wait to see her win the Games. They have even joked about how Luxe would be Sheen's mentor next year if she wins her Games, and she has become Luxe's greatest support over the course of the past few months, always training with her whenever she felt unprepared for the Games or feared not being qualified enough for the examinations.

"Hey," Luxe says, patting her friend's shoulder with a small smile.

"If it isn't the girl of the hour!" Sheen replies, a broad smile on her face. She kisses Luxe's cheek before adding, "Everyone's been waiting for you. You know the guy who's volunteering too, right? Jack or Jake or something like that?"

"Oh, yeah. Jacques," Luxe replies, rolling her eyes quietly. Jacques went to school with her back in the day, and then trained in another Academy because his parents thought he was too good for Luxe's. They briefly saw each other during the Career tryouts, but the boy had largely ignored her — he had been surrounded by a vast group of friends, and only acknowledged her presence by nodding lightly towards her. Luxe had never had a solid opinion on him, but she had heavily disliked him right then — not because he had ignored her, but because of how he appeared to hold himself in such high regard. But she guesses she will have to suck it up and act friendly around him for as long as the Career pack survives — he _will_ probably be a very valuable ally, after all, and she would rather trust someone from home than one of those unhinged kids from District Two.

"Well, he's sort of hot." Sheen shrugs, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "If he's gonna die you might as well shag him once or twice before."

"_Sheen_!" Luxe has to stifle a laugh. Her friend has never been exactly subtle about most of her concerns, but deep down Luxe loves the way she just blurts out whatever crosses her mind. "You can't just _say_ that. You're my best friend, they're probably going to interview you after I leave or something like that."

"Or something like that." Sheen chuckles. "Don't worry, Lu — I'll put in a good word for you."

Luxe does a half-smile, shaking her head. "Whatever you say, Shee."

The two girls turn their heads to the stage when a tall woman with purple skin and mustard yellow freckles on her face taps on the microphone. Elphaba Bree has been District One's escort for the past five years, and she seems to enjoy every second of the Reapings — there is a broad smile on her face, standing between the two bowls that contain all of the eligible children's names, and her fingers are already clinking against the thin glass in excitement. Their designated mentors, Gloss and Cashmere, are standing behind her with stoic but nevertheless proud expressions on their faces. Luxe met them a few weeks ago for her Games prep — they weren't exactly nice, but she reckoned it was better for them not to act too friendly around a pair of tributes that they hardly knew at all.

"Hello, District One!" Elphaba exclaims. Her greeting is welcomed by cheers and loud claps from a very enthusiastic crowd. She even bows a little in appreciation before adding, "It's such a pleasure to be back! District One has always felt like home to me — not because of the beautiful views or the skyscrapers, but because all of _you_, the most exquisite people of Panem, make me feel at home." More claps and cheers. Luxe rolls her eyes — she can barely stand the shallowness of it all.

"Very well then," Elphaba continues. "It's time to decide who will honour your beautiful District in the 86th Hunger Games. Ladies first, shall we?"

Luxe can almost feel how nearly every pair of eyes in the town square briefly darts towards her before focusing on Elphaba's stylised shape again. She picks out a random piece of paper and reads the name out loud — Luxe reckons it must be one of the younger girls, because it doesn't ring a bell at all. The girl walks onstage and greets Elphaba nonchalantly, knowing that Luxe will undoubtedly walk up to save her in a matter of minutes. Elphaba grins at her and even tousles the girl's blond braids, complimenting her on her beautiful green dress.

A few voices echo in attempt of volunteering before Luxe does, but the girl takes a step forward and courageously roars, "I volunteer!"

Gloss and Cashmere smile in approval, and Sheen whoops behind her. Her parents and sisters, sitting at the privileged spot reserved for the Careers' families, are grinning proudly at her — her mother is even crying a little, Luxe notices, and she has to hold back a smile when Elphaba invites her onstage and lets her take the microphone for a second. She takes a look at the entire town square, then at the camera. The world is but a stage, she realises now, and it is currently owned by her.

"I promise to make my family and my District proud," she says, a confident smile on her face.

The entire town square erupts in cheers and applause, and for a second Luxe feels completely and utterly _invincible_.

* * *

_all right, so! that was that. hope my portrayal of luxe's personality was accurate enough, and i hope you lot enjoyed this (lengthier) chapter. please keep submitting characters for this as I really want to keep writing it and there are still several slots open! i can come up with random reaping details without their district partners, but i _will_ need to have them for the train rides, chariot rides, training, and so on. so pretty please! with a cherry on top!_

_up next: anne bingham's reaping._

_-vandenburgs._


	5. Reaping III: Anne Bingham (District 8)

**Reaping III**

**Anne Bingham, District 8**

_call me friend, but keep me closer  
and i'll call you when the party's over_

(when the party's over — billie eilish)

•••

"This year's male tribute is . . . Gerard Hanscom!"

Anne's face contorts in surprise, and she only lets out a choked sob when he's onstage, teary-eyed behind his horn-rimmed glasses and staring at the crowd like he can't quite believe what's going on. She feels May's hand on her back, and she turns around to bury her face in her shoulder — the three of them have been best friends since they were toddlers, and she reckons May must be feeling almost as broken as her.

Almost — because, as far as she knows, May hasn't been in love with Gerard for the last two years like Anne has.

"Shh," May whispers, holding her closer. She's taller than Anne, and she wraps her arms around the girl protectively as she whispers soothing words of comfort. "It's all right. He's going to be fine."

"No," Anne croaks quietly. "He's not. He's going to _die_, May."

May grimaces. "Then tell him before he leaves."

Now it's Anne's turn to grimace. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You've got to tell him how you feel before he leaves. Go see him at the Justice Building, sneak in before his parents get there . . . Hell, I don't know. Just make sure you get to tell him before he's gone."

Anne's cheeks redden in spite of the situation. The sole idea of telling Gerard how she feels about him makes the tip of her ears turn a bright pink, because she has convinced herself that he will never feel the same way about her and that she's simply being childish for harbouring feelings for someone she has known and been so close to all her life.

"I don't know, May," she muses finally, shaking her head. "I don't want to . . . "

She never gets to finish the sentence. Their District escort — a six-feet tall Asian man whose outfit looks like it cost more than Anne's entire house — flashes a smile towards the camera before addressing the District Eight town square again.

"All right!" He exclaims. "I'm sure Gerard will make us all very proud, but we still need to find out who will be the lucky girl representing District Eight in this year's Hunger Games. Let's move on to the female bowl, shall we?"

Anne and May exchange a glance, and they immediately grab each other's hands, their fingers linking quietly. They've been together through this very moment for the past four years, and one could think they've grown used to the rush of blood to the head that takes over them whenever the District escort picks a random piece of paper out of the bowl and reads the name to himself before announcing it to the crowd. But they still feel just as anxious as they did when they were twelve, and Anne has to let out a nervous sigh before closing her eyes, too distracted by what has just happened to Gerard to even process the name that has just erupted from their escort's lips.

"Anne Bingham!"

She blinks repeatedly, staring at their escort in a dumbfounded silence. May's sobs sound remote in her ears, and the way the entire crowd 'oooh's at her name seems distant and unrelated to her; it takes her a few seconds to blink back into reality and look up at the stage, where Gerard's face has been distorted by sheer dismay and the escort is smiling at the crowd, as though expecting the female tribute to walk onstage as willingly as a Career would. She just stands there, frozen and perplexed, and only reacts when their escort repeats her name.

"Anne Bingham, please."

May lets go of her hand, knowing that she will be ushered onstage as soon as the Peacekeepers find her, and she takes a deep breath before taking one first step towards the stage. She cringes when someone pats her back in a friendly manner — she has always been a shy girl, and the idea of being recognized by her classmates and peers because of this makes her feel absolutely gutted. She tries to spot her parents, but they're nowhere to be seen — her mother must be crying, she thinks, her father holding her in his arms while trying to keep himself together. She is their only daughter, and the idea of leaving them alone in this world simply mortifies her — which is why she even grimaces a little when the escort welcomes her onstage and tells her and Gerard to shake hands in front of their entire District — as far as their escort is concerned, after all, they're simply two strangers who have just been thrown into the most vicious game in their country's history. There is no way he understands the depth of the bond that links Anne to the boy standing in front of her — she has never known life without Gerard in it, and they've spent every single day together ever since they were little children. But their escort doesn't know that, and neither does the Capitol — to them they're just two teenagers from a peripheral District whose lives will probably end as soon as they step into the Arena.

She takes a look into her best friend's eyes and sees at once that he feels more worried about her reaping than his own. His grey eyes shine tearily, but he offers her a comforting smile when their hands meet, which makes everything just a little bit more bearable.

"Don't worry," he whispers as they shake hands. "I'm going to keep you safe."

Gerard's words rush through her head, and for a second she feels like she could die right there and then.

•••

Their escort takes them to the Justice Building once the ceremony is over, and tells them they're allowed to say goodbye to their family and friends before he picks them up and escorts them to the train. He seems nonchalant and even excited about it, which irritates Anne to no end, but she simply nods quietly and refuses to let go of Gerard's hand until his family arrives and she is sent to a separate room, where her parents and May are waiting for her.

"Oh, baby," her mother moans, enveloping her in a tight hug as soon as the door closes. "I . . . I'm so sorry, love, I really thought you'd be safe if we didn't take any tesserae this year."

"Those bloody bastards can take whoever they please, after all," her father grunts, his eyes bleary and his voice rasp, as though threatening to break into a choked sob sooner and later. He places an arm around Anne's shoulders and hugs his wife and daughter before adding, "Honey, don't let this break you and Gerard apart, all right? You two have to stick together and try to make it back."

"I can't believe _we_ had to get reaped together," Anne croaks. She is well past the crying stage — she had her share of that after the Capitol journalists left, and she now simply shakes her head in sheer denial. "I could've handled being reaped on my own, but — I don't want to see him _die_, Pa. And _I_ don't want to die, either."

"We know, honey," her father replies, tousling her hair quietly — not unlike he did when she was a little girl. "We know. But you two have to stick together for as long as you can — God knows the kid will _never_ betray you."

"Your Dad's right," May sniffles, rubbing her eyes before gently taking Anne's hand in hers. "He _loves _you, Anne. Stay with him, please — I need at least one of you to make it back alive."

Anne gulps at the realization that, at best, May will only lose one of her two best friends during these Games — if not both, she tells herself miserably.

"I will," she promises, squeezing her friend's hand. "We'll both try to make it back, I promise."

May nods quietly and only pulls away when Anne's parents envelop her in yet another hug.

"I can't believe we let you take the tesserae last year," her mother moans, burying her face in Anne's thick black curls. "You wouldn't have gotten reaped if your name had only been in that bloody bowl once per year."

"Mum, it really isn't your fault," Anne says, caressing her mother's hair quietly. "I took the tesserae because we needed the food, not because you or Dad pushed me to do it." She remembers that day clearly — her father had only just gotten fired from the textile factory because his patron claimed that he had broken one of the machines, and they'd been struggling to make ends meet without his salary. Anne had taken the tesserae in spite of her parents' complaints, and she had never regretted it. She doesn't even regret it right now, minutes away from being shipped off to a nearly certain death — because she feels like she did the right thing back then, and she will _never_ regret having helped her family in times of need.

The Peacekeeper that showed her inside the room knocks again, and Anne knows that their time is up. Her mother hugs her one last time and her father presses a kiss to her forehead before letting go of her, and May offers her a sad smile before clasping her best friend's hands in hers. They're both wearing the colourful bracelets that they made for each other back in the third grade — the beads still read each other's names, and Anne gently places her bracelet in May's hands.

"I want you to keep this," she says, a soft smile on her face. "Wear them together while I'm away, will you?"

May's eyes have gone teary yet again, but she nods and clasps her friend's bracelet in her hand. "All right. But aren't we supposed to give _you _something for you to take as a token?"

Anne shrugs. "Gerard is the best token I could possibly have."

The Peacekeeper swings the door open and raises his chin at them, telling Anne's parents and May it is time for them to leave. They all smother her with kisses and hug her tightly as they make their way to the door, and Anne can't help but feel how her insides churn as they're escorted outside the Justice Building, with some Capitol journalists and camerapeople already waiting for them to make a statement about how wrecked they feel about their only daughter being sent to the Hunger Games. She has never hated the Capitol as fiercely as she does right now — not because of her own reaping, but because of how they're making her loved ones _suffer_.

She recognizes a familiar hand on her shoulder, and somehow it all goes away within seconds.

"Hey." Gerard's eyes are still a little bleary from having said goodbye to his parents and siblings — he comes from a very large family, so she gathers he probably feels as though he hasn't had enough time to properly say goodbye to all seven of them. "How did that go for you?"

"You know," she shrugs, averting her eyes. She still can't believe they're both being sent to the Games _together_ — a more morbid side of her can't help but feel like it's absolutely horrifying, but also somewhat relieving to know that she's always going to have him by her side. "It was . . . well, awful, but I'm glad we got to say goodbye."

"Yeah," he nods quietly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he pulls her closer. "But at least we won't be alone, right? There's no use in crying now — all we've got to do is survive."

Anne wraps her arms around his torso, and whispers against his chest, "I'm scared _shitless_, Gee."

"I know," he whispers against her hair. "But I'm going to bring you home, all right? You're going to be safe."

She would have normally shuddered at the way his lips quietly press against the top of her head, but she simply nods and whispers, "You too, Gee."

He hugs her tighter, and Anne can't help but feel as though Gerard is going to be her only home from now on.

* * *

_well that's that! hope you enjoyed this reaping. since the previous two focused on the morning of and ended with our tributes' reapings i thought this one could focus on the visits at the justice building and what comes immediately after the reaping — what do you guys think?_

_also! there are **ten spots left** and it'd be lovely to have a full cast before the tributes get to the Capitol! i still need **both tributes for Districts 3, 4, 5, and 11**, and the **female tribute for District 7 **and the **male tribute for District 10**. so yeah, feel free to shoot me a PM if you're interested in one (or more!) of those spots! i don't think i mentioned it earlier but **submissions via guest review are totally fine** as long as you leave a name for me to address you in the footnotes if i ever need anything!_

_up next: xavier helmsley's reaping._

_until then,_

_-vandenburgs._


	6. Reaping IV: Xavier Helmsley (District 7)

**Reaping IV**

**Xavier Helmsley, District 7**

_i got guns in my head and they won't go_  
_spirits in my head and they won't go_  
_but the gun still rattles_  
_oh, the gun still rattles on_

(spirits — the strumbellas)

•••

Xavier lets out a loud scream as soon as he is alone in the Justice Building, pressing his forehead against the wall.

A Peacekeeper opens the door, but it's only to show his father inside — he gathers some tributes must have pretty extreme reactions to getting reaped, and that most of his District's Peacekeepers have grown accustomed to only moderately unhinged teenagers losing their minds while being sent away to the Games. He couldn't care less, though — his life is but a bubble of stress and anger right now, and he only tones it down when his father eyes him with the same gesture of disdain that he has always seen in his eyes. There is some contempt to his expression now, though — Xavier knows he probably feels relieved and even a little thrilled at the idea of his only son and the cause of his wife's death finally getting what he deserves by being sent to the Games. Xavier knows he has always wanted him to get reaped, after all — he made him take tesserae even when they didn't need them (which was more often than not) so that his name appeared more frequently in the bowl, and he has even barked at him that he would rather have him sent to the Games than stand another minute of his abhorrent moaning every single night.

It's not just that his father doesn't love him — he wants him _dead_, because he still believes Xavier's birth was what killed his beloved wife.

"So," there's a half-smile in his father's lips, which is usually a rather rare sight in the Helmsley household. "The day has come, right?"

Xavier quivers and averts his eyes, shrugging. "I suppose. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Come on, don't act like you're not _craving_ this shit as much as I am, boy," his father bites back, a devilish smile spreading through his lips. "You're _finally_ going to see what I went through when your mother passed away, and you know what? I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. I'm going to sit in front of the telly and eat popcorn and drink beer and even whoop when some stuck-up District One kid slits your throat open, because it's what _you_ deserve." His finger digs into Xavier's chest malevolently, and he lets out a sharp laugh when the boy backs away from him. "What, you're going to act like a crybaby now? Do not, and I repeat, _do not_ embarrass me in front of the whole country. I'm your only family, and the cameras will come pester me if you do anything strange, so keep your shit together."

"I . . . I will, Father," he croaks, avoiding his father's taunting gaze. He fiddles with his shirt buttons, and cringes when his father smacks his hand in reproach. "Leave me _alone_!"

"Don't you snap back at me like that!" His father's hands are on his shoulders, shaking him violently. His cheeks have turned a blotchy red, and Xavier somehow knows what's coming already. "Do _not_ embarrass me, you hear me? If I see you acting like a baby while being interviewed or thrown into that goddamn Arena I swear I'm going to go all the way to the Capitol and murder you with my own bloody hands."

"O-okay, Dad!" Xavier yelps, tears prickling his eyes. He hates crying in front of his father, but the sole idea of being hit by him right before leaving for the Capitol makes it all a whole lot more painful than his nightly beatings whenever Xavier got home from work. "I'll behave, I p-promise."

His father's face is still a fiery red, but he has stopped shaking him now. He touches a hand to his son's cheek, but quickly slaps it before mumbling, "You _better_."

Xavier lowers his gaze and stares at his shoes, trying not to think about the stingy feeling on his cheek and shoulders. He has grown used to his father's physical abuse over the course of the year, but the fact that he is used to it doesn't make it any less hurtful — there's something inside his head that keeps telling him he deserves his father's abuse and his words of disdain, but he still aches for someone to understand what he's going through. He doesn't mind being sent to the Games in that sense — he figures it won't be worse than living with his father, and at least he will get to know some peace before the Careers hunt him down during the Bloodbath. His mouth even waters a little at the prospect of having three more than decent meals a day, and he even smiles when he pictures himself in a suit and getting ready for Caesar Flickerman's interview.

"What the _fuck_ you smilin' at, boy?"

"Nothin', Father," Xavier shrugs his shoulders and cringes at the possibility of being hit again, but his father just glares at him before taking a sip from his hip flask, which he refilled right before leaving for the Reaping.

"You know," his father slurs, a sardonic smile on his face. "I feared this might never happen. You're getting old, you know, and you _never_ got reaped no matter how many tesserae we took. And look at you now! All set and good to go. Can't wait to see you live on television, kid. I bet the Careers are gonna _love_ you."

Xavier gulps and shrugs his shoulders quietly. "I'll try my best."

His father snorts. "Like Hell you will. You'll be lucky if you make it out of the Bloodbath alive, kid."

Xavier shrugs his shoulders, and gulps in relief when a Peacekeeper flings the door open and tells his father it's time for him to leave. His father grumbles something like a 'goodbye' before following the Peacekeeper outside, and Xavier hugs himself quietly while waiting for the District Seven escort to arrive — she had some interviews to do while he and his District partner were inside the Justice Building, but she had promised to come pick them up before heading to the train station. He awkwardly stands there in the middle of the corridor, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure that his father is really gone. He spots an old lady pushing a cart that is nearly twice her size — a janitor, he supposes, since people don't really retire anymore and most young people work in the woods rather than in the city centre. She smiles kindly at him, and discreetly does the Three Finger Salute to him. Xavier shivers, knowing what it means from watching the 74th Hunger Games as a young boy, and silently acknowledges the woman's salute with a nod.

"Good luck, Xavier," she whispers as she pushes her cart past him, a small smile on her lips.

Xavier nods. It is only then when he realizes that his father hasn't addressed him by his name for the past few years, not once — and yet somehow the entirety of Panem knows his name now, and will remember him by it for as long as they live.

Xavier, the boy, smiles to himself. Perhaps he isn't as lost as he thought he was.

* * *

_i really wanted to make this longer but i don't have xav's district partner yet so :( anyway, i hope you liked this chapter! i won't be doing any more reapings from now on — the next four chapters will be train rides, then training sessions, then interviews, and so on. please let me know what you think and consider submitting a tribute or two if you haven't already!_

_up next: andromeda pierce's train ride._

_until then,_

_-vandenburgs._


End file.
